


Could You Show Me?

by sarahstarkiller



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, Gay Billy Hargrove, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahstarkiller/pseuds/sarahstarkiller
Summary: Steve and Billy are high off their asses in Steve’s room one day. Steve wonders what's so great about being fucked, so Billy shows him.





	Could You Show Me?

On a Sunday afternoon after Billy invited himself over and shared a joint with him, Steve is making mouth noises and singing random parts of every song he can think of, expecting a whack on the arm from Billy saying, “Quit it,” because he always does that when Steve makes random noises. That’s the main reason Steve does it; he lives to bother Billy. Also, he’s high and feels like doing something dumb.

  
But Billy just lies beside him on the floor, eyes closed and the ghost of a smile on his lips.   
  
While looking at the curve of his lips and the curls of his hair, Steve recalls the confession Billy made a few weeks ago. Neither of them have mentioned it since. But now, high and loose-lipped, Steve suddenly and stupidly blurts out, “How do gay guys decide?”   
  
Billy’s head turns slowly toward him, eyes still closed as he waits a beat. “What?” He opens his eyes, amusement clear in his voice.   
  
“You know,” Steve tilts his head, face heating up. “How do they - do  _ you _ \- decide who’s gonna do what?”   
  
Billy smirks and gives Steve a once-over. “You mean who takes it up the ass and who gives it up the ass?”   
  
“That was eloquent. Yes, that’s what I mean.”   
  
“Well,” Billy sighs and turns on his side to face Steve. “It depends on what you like. Some guys only like one or the other. Some like it both ways.”   
  
“How do you know if you’re gonna like something or not?”   
  
“You don’t. You just have to try it. Hawkins didn’t teach you the joys of experimentation, Harrington?”   
  
Steve doesn’t answer, just makes a face because no, Hawkins hasn’t taught him much at all.   
  
“What...” he’s really pushing it with this one. He has a tough time keeping his mouth shut when he’s perfectly sober, so when he’s high or drunk or both, well. Things slip out. “What do  _ you _ like?”   
  
Billy doesn’t punch him or anything which Steve is sort of surprised by, even with their albeit fragile friendship, but he does give him a weird look.   
  
“Who’s askin’?”   
  
“Me.”   
  
Billy grins, still looking a little skeptical, but he answers, “Both.” And then he adds, “Nothing quite like taking cock, though, that’s for sure.”   
  
Steve’s face heats up and he finds himself giggling at Billy’s vulgarity. But his mind wanders and he imagines what that might look like,  _ feel _ like. He can’t imagine it feeling pleasurable. He wonders what Billy looks like when he’s got a dick up his ass, what he likes about it, and then thinks maybe he shouldn’t wonder about that kind of thing.   
  
His whole face and neck gets hot at the notion and he hopes Billy’s not watching him.   
  
Billy might make it look good. He’s pretty handsome and everything, Steve bets he could make the flu look sexy. There’s only one way to know, though, if gay sex even  _ appears _ to be enjoyable.   
  
“Could you show me?” Who let him smoke? Why do people let him speak, high or sober?   
  
Billy peeks one eye open, inspecting Steve. “You wanna watch a porno, is that it?”   
  
Steve wants to jump out of his window, actually. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, a porno.”  _ ‘Abort,’ _ he thinks and sits up, heart pounding. “I’m getting something to drink. Want anything?” He gets up off the floor and tries not to run out of his own room.   
  
Steve doesn’t turn to look at him but he knows Billy’s watching him go. “I’m good.”   
  
He grabs the doorknob and can’t free himself from this room that smells like weed and Billy fast enough.   
  
Billy’s got other plans, though.   
  
The door is shut in his face as soon as he gets it open and Billy’s standing there between him and his freedom.   
  
“Wait,” Billy’s tone is low and serious. “You weren’t talking about porn, were you?”   
  
Steve fakes a laugh, says, “What? What else would I be talking about?”   
  
With his hand still barring Steve from exiting, Billy leans back a little and grins. Steve knows that look; he’s trying to read Steve’s mind, map him out so he has the upper hand. He probably thinks Steve’s being playful, daring him to say it, but no. Steve couldn’t be more humiliated.   
  
“I don’t know. You tell me.”   
  
Steve’s jaw clenches, not because he’s angry but because he’s scared.   
  
“Man, I’m so fucking high right now, I don’t even know-”   
  
“Steve.”   
  
And it’s the way he says it that shuts Steve up. It’s not the way people usually say his name, like they’re disappointed in him or embarrassed by him. Like they’re talking to a child. It’s just his name, plain and simple, and yet Billy can make him refocus like no one else can.   
  
“I-” But, Christ, how the hell is he supposed to say this to his friend’s face? “I wanna see you-” a shuddery breath cuts him off. “Wanna see you… show me. Just show me.”   
  
Billy’s face is all soft like it gets when Steve’s being sincere, which is often, and he doesn’t yell or hit or leave. He just blinks.   
  
“It’s really fucked up, I know, but,” Steve wants to perish right then and there, running a hand over his flaming face. “And I probably just fucked everything up like I always do. Sorry. Billy.”   
  
Nothing happens for a long time. When Steve is afraid they might stand there until they’re old and gray, he chances a look at Billy who’s nearly smiling at him.   
  
“What?” Steve says just above a whisper, the humiliation in his gut making room for terror.   
  
“C’mere,” Billy says quietly and strides toward the bed, no preamble, no explanation. Steve sees him reach for his belt and start to unbuckle it. A thrilling sort of shock and fear shoots through his whole body.   
  
Steve almost blacks out before he insists, “No, no, no, you don’t have to do that.”   
  
“If I wanna get my pants off I do.”   
  
“No, you don’t have to listen to me, it was stupid.  _ I’m _ stupid-”   
  
“You’re not stupid,” Billy says evenly, but he does stop undressing himself, belt buckle undone and tight jeans unbuttoned. “Just curious.”   
  
“Which is a nice way of saying stupid.”   
  
Billy scoffs. “Look, health class apparently didn’t teach you anything about the mechanics involved in two guys getting each other off, so here I am.” Billy spreads his hands out like he’s offering himself up, smile bright.   
  
Steve still feels dumb and terrified, but he does crack a small smile and mutters, “They didn’t even mention that two guys  _ could _ get each other off. Or even two girls.”   
  
Billy cackles, straightens himself out again and licks his lips. “I’ll be your teacher, then. But I unfortunately can’t show you what lesbian sex is like.”   
  
“That’s okay, I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”   
  
Billy rolls his eyes, grinning, and tugs Steve’s shirt. “C’mon,” he says softly before settling onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard.   
  
Barely believing any of this is real, Steve sits on the edge of the bed, hesitant to get close to Billy.   
  
Billy sees this and assures him, “You’re only watching me, Steve.” And then he smiles devilishly, “You can, of course, touch the art if you feel so compelled.”   
  
Steve settles onto the middle of his bed, mostly because he can kick Billy easier, but also because he’s being so inviting, it’s hard to resist his generosity. “Asshole,” Steve mutters.   
  
“Mm,” Billy hums, slipping his belt off completely now, unzipping his jeans. “That’s the idea… ”   
  
Steve feels like the breath’s been punched out of him as he watches Billy shuck his shirt and snake a hand down his chest, over his abs, fingers grazing the edge of his boxers.   
  
Billy laughs, a breathy sound like he’s nervous or something. “This part will be a little awkward, but,” he shrugs, tugs his lip with his teeth. “I’m committed.”   
  
Steve leans back and spreads his legs so the view of Billy touching himself is right between them.   
  
Steve’s sure his alarm’s gonna go off and he’ll be hopping in the shower to rub one out before school. That he’ll sit in front of Billy in statistics and everything will be normal, they’ll trade snacks at lunch, sneak out to the bleachers to smoke before government, and Billy will pretend to like girls until he’s in the safety of Steve’s presence, alone, eating his mom’s leftover lasagna while he listens to Steve freak out about his asshole father.   
  
But Steve actually does pinch himself, in the arm, and Billy still sits there, head tilted back as he touches himself teasingly. His fingers ghost over a nipple while his other hand slides onto the front of his underwear. Steve swallows suddenly, watching Billy slip his hand  _ into _ his boxers for a moment and back out to rub himself through the fabric. He actually witnesses Billy get hard as he keeps on ghosting his one hand over his chest, tweaking a nipple every now and then.

 

Steve values honesty, so if he’s going to be honest with himself, he’s more than a little turned on.

 

“Steve,” Billy rasps and the sound of his name, in  _ that _ voice, certainly does not make his dick soft. “Y’know, it’s okay if you get hard on me.” Billy chuckles to himself in that smug, self-satisfied way he does just to rile Steve up, but it swiftly turns into a gasp when he takes his cock in hand.

 

Steve can only sit back with his jaw in his lap when Billy shimmies lower, getting comfortable, and takes his cock from his underwear. At the sight of it, Steve’s mind supplies the word  _ pretty. _ It’s not the first time he’s seen his dick, sure, but it’s definitely the first time he’s seen it hard and leaking. It’s certainly a pleasant sight and Steve can’t get the idea out of his head that it’d fit nicely into his own hand.

 

Billy spits into his hand and grips himself firmly, his strokes languid and drawn out. Steve’s hands are shaking and his breath is quickening, caught up in wonder at the sight of Billy using his thumb to spread precome over the head of his cock, slickening his fingers which he then uses to tweak at a nipple. Steve’s head is swimming as he’s nearly overwhelmed with trying to keep his dick soft through the sheer force of will, but it’s no use. His jeans grow uncomfortable as Billy kicks his own pants off, sliding his boxers off with them.

 

“Kinda hard to hide yourself, isn’t it? Considering what you’re packin’ and all…”

 

“Fuck off,” Steve gripes but the thin quality of his voice makes Billy cackle at him.

 

Steve glares while Billy simply smirks in satisfaction, his head on Steve’s pillow all innocent and almost  _ cute, _ if he weren’t such a prick.

 

“Now, Steve,” Billy starts and doesn’t even try to sound put-together, doesn’t try to hide how he’s aching for something. “‘M gonna suck on my fingers to get them all nice and wet.”

 

Billy always says things he shouldn’t, like curse words Steve never uses and dirty things any sane person would find difficulty in picturing, but this is different. This is filthy and Steve finds that he loves it, just wants Billy to keep babbling and making those soft, whimpering noises he does when he squeezes his cock just near the head and twists his wrist.

 

“Ever sucked a cock?” Billy poses with a finger on his lip, eyes all round and pure.

 

Steve basically chokes.

 

“Didn’t think so,” Billy winks and slips his pointer inside his mouth, conveniently just as Steve realizes his boxers are wet with precome. And, God, Billy sucks on his finger like he’s making love to it, like anyone should be jealous of it. Steve would laugh if he weren’t so hard.

 

Billy quickly slides his middle finger in alongside his pointer, his lips all plump and glistening and he’s making direct eye contact with Steve, who’s powerless to look away. Too enraptured to really notice, still high with his brain playing catch-up, Steve barely registers that Billy is making eyes at him, one hand’s fingers wet with his own spit, the other working his dick. Maybe it’s lust clouding his perception, maybe it’s the pot, but Steve’s heart skips a beat seeing Billy’s eyes all droopy and pretty, making sure Steve is watching intently.

 

When Billy spreads his legs, bent at the knees to give Steve the perfect view, Steve chokes on air.

 

“Whoa… ” he actually says out fucking loud, for Billy to hear.

 

Billy pauses and looks at Steve, almost like he’s waiting for him to continue, say something else. Like he’s suddenly unsure, which would be ridiculous because Steve is currently looking at the guy’s asshole.

 

Which he actually doesn’t hate. No, he quite likes it.

 

Because Billy looks as if he’s about to stop altogether and because Steve is realizing he might die if Billy stops, he does something daring.

 

Steve smiles, nevermind the deep red of his cheeks, and starts undoing his belt. Billy’s eyes widen as Steve unbuttons his jeans, the sound of his zipper ringing through the air, and strips them off, throws them onto the floor. He palms himself through his boxers, biting his lip to hold in any sounds of relief he’s almost definitely going to make.

 

He’s half afraid Billy’s gonna tell him to cut it out, put his clothes on and disappear.

 

“Alright,” Billy sighs with a grin, obviously relieved and settling back onto the pillow. He reaches next to his head for the other pillow and stuffs it under his hips, angling them upward and giving Steve a  _ glorious _ view of his legs, his thighs, his everything. Steve’s drooling over those thighs, wants to grip them and spread them as far as they’ll go, as far as Billy wants. He feels it in his chest like some animalistic desire he can’t contain. “You wanna see how I take cock?”

 

Steve’s about to argue that it’s not specifically  _ Billy, _ just any guy, but he can’t possibly lie like that. Not when he’s starting to understand the truth of it all.

 

With his eyes closed in what Steve assumes is pure bliss, Billy snakes a hand over his thigh, slides it over to take his cock in hand once more before he brings his other hand, with spit-slick fingers, down, down until his pointer is circling his hole and making it flutter. Billy’s breath hitches before he sighs and sinks his finger inside himself, making him groan in relief.

 

Steve may just come at the sight.

 

“Love the stretch… ” Billy gasps and starts properly fingering himself, teasing his rim each time his finger slides out. “Being full… ” Billy punctuates his words with a harsh thrust of his finger, and he groans low in his throat. Steve is basically ripping his underwear off to get a hand around himself, sighing quietly at the friction his fist provides. Billy works another finger inside, his eyes open now and clearly admiring Steve’s cock, if the coquettish smirk on his face is anything to go by.  _ “Fuck,” _ he hisses with his teeth bared, scissoring himself open nice and slow. “There’s a spot inside guys where, when you hit it, you -  _ Christ…” _ Billy’s cut off by his own enthusiastic moan, and then he’s almost giggling, almost crying, driving his fingers in deep.

 

Steve squeezes himself tighter and lets a groan slip out, too caught up in Billy to keep himself in check. “What-” Steve’s voice is ruined, so he clears his throat and whispers, “What did you just do?”

 

“Hit my prostate,” Billy licks his teeth and slows his fingers, slows the hand around his own cock to look at Steve. “Feels real good. You wanna know how it feels, Steve?”

 

Steve is a half step away from wrapping his own hand around Billy’s dick, but he catches what Billy’s saying and he blanches. Then his gut stirs and his cock gives a curious twitch in his hand. “To be…”

 

“To be fucked,” Billy whispers and then whines, the muscles in his thighs twitching. “Don’t you wanna know what a cock feels like, inside you?”

 

Steve tries to think for a second but he can’t. He’s only going off what he’s feeling in the moment, so he starts nodding.

 

“Want  _ me _ to fuck you?”

 

Steve’s pretty sure he could pass out from the thrill Billy’s words give him and again he’s nodding, mewling quietly as he swipes a thumb over his leaking slit.

 

“Mm, thought so,” Billy attempts to tease him but it’s hard to be offended when Billy’s moaning with his own fingers inside himself. “Wanna know something, pretty boy?”

 

“Tell me,” Steve asks, surprised by the sound of his own voice, rough and shaking.

 

Billy bites his lip and makes a face, shifting his hips, and when he finds what he’s looking for, he whimpers. His fingers speed up and his legs seem to open wider. Steve’s considering just crawling between them.

 

“Want you to give it to me,” Billy gasps and makes sure to give Steve’s cock a good look. His tongue pokes out of his mouth. “Would you? Would you give me your cock, baby?”

 

Steve shudders, gets goosebumps, and his breath comes out in short gasps. He works himself faster, needing to get off with the image of Billy painted before him, so beautiful as he fingers himself because Steve asked him to.

 

“In a heartbeat,” Steve nods minutely, wanting to whine at the way Billy’s hips lift off the pillow for a moment, lost in his own pleasure.

 

“Thank God,” Billy chuckles breathlessly and then, because they’re both stupid and ridiculous and high with euphoria, they both start giggling like a pair of schoolgirls.

 

Once he calms down, Billy groans deeply and works his fingers, clearly desperate to come. He’s making all these soft sounds, little gasps and whimpers, and Steve wants to use his own fingers to draw those noises from him. Steve uses his other hand to tease his balls, cocking his head as Billy thrusts his fingers slow and steady, wiggling them a bit, moaning brokenly. Steve watches in awe as Billy buries his fingers inside himself, his tight hole Steve would love to explore.

 

“Jesus, you’re tight, aren’t you?” Steve doesn’t really mean to say it but he’s not embarrassed that he did, too interested in the way Billy actually whines at his words.

 

“And hot, too,” Billy manages to gasp out. He grips the headboard behind himself and squeezes, white-knuckled and desperate. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll come without a hand on my dick.”

 

“No?” Steve challenges, giddy with excitement, a bit fearful in the best way of this new territory opening up between them. “Just a few fingers inside yourself? That’s all it takes to get you off?”

 

_ “Yes,” _ Billy whispers with heavy eyes.

 

“You’re too easy,” Steve teases. “Just a cockslut, begging for the biggest dick you can find. Is that what you are?”

 

Billy lets out a guttural moan and Steve swears he feels it in his chest.

 

“No,” Steve answers his own question suddenly, seeing the wild curls fanned out on his pillow, the blue of Billy’s sparkly eyes, thinking about the way he listens to Steve when he complains, buys him food without Steve having to ask, the way he smiles when Steve sings and how he’ll sleepover whenever Steve calls him up after a particularly vivid nightmare. Steve doesn’t want to call him a  _ cockslut, _ not even when Billy seems to like it. “No, you’re begging for something else, aren’t you?”

 

“What?” Billy breathes and his mouth falls open with a silent gasp. “What’re you sayin’, Harrington?”

 

“I’m saying I think you’re pretty,” Steve struggles to speak but he gets it out anyway, the truth and all. He mumbles, “And stuff…”

 

Billy is panting and gazing at Steve with wide eyes, like he’s shocked by his revelation, like he can’t believe him.

 

“And stuff?” Billy breathes and tries to laugh, but he twists his fingers and whines.

 

Steve hisses as he grips himself a little too tightly, watching Billy near his orgasm. “And I wanna give you everything, so you’ll only ever want me.” Billy grins weakly at Steve, encouraging him to continue. “God, you’re perfect. I’ve never seen anyone look so good,” Steve’s chest aches with the truth, and his cock twitches when he sees Billy  _ blush, _ bright red.

 

With Steve’s words, Billy gives his fingers a few more thrusts before he’s moaning brokenly and coming all over his stomach, the muscles in his thighs clenching. At the sight of him, Steve forgets what he was doing with his hand, movement faltering on the upstroke as he’s too caught up in Billy panting with an arm thrown over his eyes.

 

“Oh,  _ now _ you’re shy?” Steve teases, feeling relieved when Billy cracks a smile and peeks at him from beneath his arm.

 

Billy slides his fingers from his ass with a groan and sits up. Steve is still hard and almost shaking from how much he needs to come. Out of nowhere, Billy rises to his knees and lets himself fall forward onto his stomach, palms pressed to the bed as he crawls the short distance to Steve.

 

Steve wants to ask him what he’s doing, but his throat is dry and his voice no longer works. Billy stays low, his breath ghosting over Steve’s dick.

 

Trembling, Steve chances placing a hand on Billy’s shoulder, soft and sweet.

 

“Is this okay?” Billy asks as he takes Steve’s cock in his hand and pumps him languidly.

 

“Fuck,” Steve can speak after all.  _ “Yes.” _

 

Billy smiles at him, like one of those real smiles Steve gets when he makes Billy laugh or when they fake trash talk during basketball practice, and it seems both so new and yet so natural. Like, of course Billy would smile at him like that just before he kisses the head of Steve’s cock, making him shudder beneath his ministrations. Steve slides his hand onto the back of Billy’s neck, pressing gently to make him look up and meet his eye.

 

“You have nice lips,” Steve mutters affectionately, his brain-to-mouth filter destroyed.

 

Billy raises his eyebrows at him and smirks. “Thanks, Stevie,” he purrs and kisses his leaking slit. “Your lips are nice, too.”

 

Steve whimpers and doesn’t have time to be embarrassed by it because Billy licks the head of his cock before stretching his lips over it, sucking gently. Steve’s other hand immediately flies to Billy’s head, fingers tangling in his curls.

 

He knows he’s not going to last long so he tells Billy as much. Billy chuckles, the vibrations making Steve groan. Steve tries not to thrust up into his mouth when Billy starts sinking lower onto his cock, taking more and more of him into the wet heat. He swears he feels the tip of his dick touch the back of Billy’s throat, but he’s coming and his mind is blanking before he can figure it out.

 

When he can kind of feel his limbs again, Steve tugs gently on Billy’s hair, bringing him up off his softening dick. Rather than making a face because his mouth is full of Steve’s come, Billy  _ swallows _ it all down like it’s no bother. No one has ever done that, in Steve’s experience.

 

Billy gets up onto his knees again, making to slide off the bed, but Steve has a different idea, one that grips him and won’t let go.

 

Steve rises to face Billy and just grabs him by the hip, pulls him into himself and plants one on him.

 

Billy makes a sort of confused noise but he doesn’t pull away or push Steve. Steve thinks for a second that he’s about to be punched in the face, but then he feels Billy’s hands on either side of his face, holding him. And Billy kisses him back; his lips feel even better than they look. Steve can taste himself, which in theory sounds pretty gross but there’s something strangely sweet about it. Or maybe Steve’s just demented. He doesn’t care either way.

 

Billy pulls away slowly, dives back in to pull on Steve’s lip with his sharp teeth. Steve’s breathless and overwhelmed, in the absolute best way.

 

Resting his forehead against Steve’s, Billy says, “You need to ask questions more often.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you ask your same-sex friend to masturbate in front of you, you may be queer. you also may be a little in love with them.


End file.
